


What We Can't Survive

by TWDObsessive



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Aggression, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angry Daryl, Angry Sex, Bottom Rick, Daryl Dixon/Rick Grimes Feels, Daryl is sick of Rick being an idiot, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feels, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Rick is an idiot, Rough Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-08 10:25:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7754077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TWDObsessive/pseuds/TWDObsessive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few weeks after Negan kills Glenn in the line-up, Rick attempts to sneak out of Alexandria to assassinate the crazy leader and almost dies just trying to get there.  </p><p>Afterwards, Daryl and Rick are locked in an angry showdown about how goddamn dumb it was for Rick to leave like that alone.  Hot, angry sex ensues.  </p><p>(Cliffs Notes Version of this summary: This is 100% angry porn.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	What We Can't Survive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ricksbowlegs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ricksbowlegs/gifts).



> Guess What- It's beta'd! Thank you Stylepoints!
> 
> I'm gifting this to Ricksbowlegs because they commented about a desperate need for bottom!Rick. There does seem to be a shameful lack of it in existence!

The tension in the room was sizzling, like electricity lighting up the sky from behind dark storm clouds. Daryl was pissed. Furious. It was one stupid thing after another with Rick Grimes. Things had finally settled down since Negan… Since Glenn. 

It sucked, yes. It sucked having to bow down to that animal, having to send more than half of their supplies and food back to the Savior’s for nothing. It was insane. But Rick running off alone in an attempt to assassinate the madman was even more insane.

Daryl hadn't even known he was gone. How did he miss it? He'd been acutely aware of Rick's every move since the prison. He could have been killed. Could have just simply disappeared. And that was not something Daryl could survive. He’d barely survived Glenn.

Rick was standing there shooting daggers at Daryl, glaring like it was his fault Rick hadn’t been able to complete his mission. Like it was somehow Daryl’s fault that the leader had gotten overrun by walkers before he was even half-way back to the Savior’s camp instead of Heath and Tara finding him trapped. He’d been treed like a damn cat with a gaggle of walkers underneath trying to wait out his resolve as he sat helpless up on the branch of an oak tree. Almost killed by walkers... after everything- the governor, terminus, the claimers, the wolves, the saviors… to be killed by walkers was just plain _stupid_.

“You could have been killed,” Daryl shouted again, seething. It might have been the third or fourth time he said it but it was worth repeating. “You have a son and a baby girl.”

“Exactly, Daryl,” Rick growled back. “I have a son and a baby girl and I will not rest until I know that the threat, the animal who killed Glenn… Who could’ve killed _you_ … Who wouldn't bat an eye at killing my chil -”

“You could have been killed!” Daryl shouted over him. “You! Carl’s _father_ , Judith’s _father_ , my… my family.” He hesitated on the last word. Rick was so many things to him. ‘Family’ didn’t even scratch the surface of it. The word was completely inadequate but Daryl couldn’t figure out any other words that would make sense. He paced the bedroom floor. No need to keep their voices down. Everyone left when Daryl took the porch steps two at a time, body language and narrowed eyes screaming for everyone to get lost and fast.

Rick tried to grab a fresh set of clothes for a shower and Daryl ripped them from his hands and pushed him against the wall. He had thought about it before. About Rick dying. Daryl would not survive it. Not Rick. The hunter was seething with emotion- anger, hate, love, lust. Emotions were not his specialty and he didn’t know what to do with the chaotic swirl of them. 

He was furious that Rick would walk out of these gates on such a mission without consulting him. He was furious that he had no control, no control over what had happened to Glenn, to Beth, to Merle. And now no control over how fucking stupid Rick was- again.

How many times has he had to talk Rick down? To say his name firm and steady and get him to snap out of the chaos in his own mind? 

He glared at Rick, his forearm pressed against his chest, pinning the leader between Daryl and the wall. He wanted to punch him, to strangle him, to scream at him. To fuck him. Rick held his gaze, not blinking, not looking away, no hint of apology or remorse for leaving.

Rick's eyes were watery. He was often like that now as if stress were water and Rick was a pot on a hot stove, boiling over. He had anger in those tears, but he also had a hint of something else. Of begging. Of want. 

Daryl had always had very little self worth and it had taken forever for Rick to make him understand how much he was needed by the group, how much he was needed by Rick himself. How much he was wanted. Daryl knew that now. He was confident in that. And he was confident enough to recognize the “more” that had been between them since the prison. Probably since before the prison. But despite that knowledge he was still surprised when Rick leaned in aggressively and pressed his lips to Daryl's. The hunter backed up, his hands dropped away from the grip they had on Rick’s shirt. 

It's not that he was adverse to the advance, it was just unexpected. Rick moved with him, lips still locked onto Daryl's, Rick's hands now aggressively gripping Daryl's shirt. 

The startled hunter pushed away half-heartedly but Rick's mouth kept coming back to his, insistent. Demanding. Finally Daryl pushed him away and he paced, his eyes on Rick's like a caged tiger in a zoo as he stalked back and forth. His breath was heavy, his heart racing in his chest, his skin tingling from Rick’s closeness.

Rick was normally a talker, but he said nothing. He let the silence speak for itself. The look in his eyes, the set of his jaw, his raised brow, it was a dare for Daryl to ignore this thing between them.

He couldn't. He couldn't ignore what had been in the pit of his stomach all this time. He needed Rick. Wanted him. He paced. And his mind was cacophony of moments- images and words between he and Rick, a flash of one shared glance after another, voices calling for one another dozens of different times. They'd been building towards this showdown for years. 

Daryl finally clicked on the image of Rick with a gun to his temple and the countdown from the claimers ringing through his head. He remembered the moments after that incident was all over; overwhelming relief and the sudden realization that he wanted this man in every sense.

How many more times was he going to risk losing him and never knowing the feel of his hands or his skin? He stopped pacing and eyed Rick as if he were a deer in his scope and he charged forward, hands instantly up and in the leader’s too-long curls, Daryl’s mouth on his mouth, chest pressed against chest and a struggle for dominance.

Daryl wanted to kiss him as much as he wanted to punch him, and the kiss they were locked in was anything but tender. It was angry and bold and fierce and passionate. Rick's hands were clinging tightly to the hunter’s vest, low near his hips. 

His mouth was hot against Daryl's, like fire. And Daryl kissed him so hard he felt sure they'd both end up with bruised lips. They fought each other in a strange dance of want and need, Daryl struggling to pull out of Rick's grasp, at the same time he was trying to pull the man closer. And Rick doing the same. 

Rick's pouty lips were parted and Daryl plunged his tongue in as Rick was trying to breach Daryl's lips with his own tongue. Rick's hands shifted to Daryl's chest as he tried to push the man down to the bed, but Daryl was stronger, his shoulders broader and his arms more powerful from the crossbow. Daryl fought the push, turned them around and slammed Rick to the bed, climbing on top of him, his tongue still chasing the warmth of Rick's mouth.

Rick fought to turn them over but Daryl not only outweighed him and outmuscled him, he had the leverage.

He broke the kiss, his hands wrapped tight around Rick’s wrists as they struggled. Daryl finally got his arms in a solid position and flipped the other man over. 

Suddenly Rick stopped fighting him. The leader was pressed into the bed on his stomach, Daryl leaning over him. The hunter was hard and the urge to seek release from it was more powerful than it had ever been. 

He pressed himself against Rick's ass, rocked against him to get a little friction, worn jeans against worn jeans.

“Do it,” Rick demanded. His voice was muffled from his mouth being pressed into the bed. 

Daryl didn't reply. Surely Rick would know not to expect to hear anything. Most of their conversations were a series of grunts and nods and eye contact. And that was when they were talking about things much less complicated.

Daryl just kept Rick's hands together in his own and rocked into him.

Rick struggled again below him. “Fucking do it!” He shouted. Daryl let go of Rick's arms and watched as the man scrambled to unbutton and unzip. He wiggled out of his pants and pulled off his now-sweaty t-shirt and turned to face Daryl, bare.

It wasn't the first time Daryl had seen the man naked. They had survived for years in the apocalypse together and many of those days were spent without walls, without safety, without privacy to bathe or take a piss, without another person there to watch your back. But it was the first time Daryl had really taken the time to stare. His eyes mapped over every inch of Rick’s flesh as if he were committing the man to memory, both of them with heaving breaths; a combination of anticipation and exhaustion from the struggle. 

Rick’s cock stood at attention and he made no attempts at modesty. He stood and let Daryl take him in from bare feet to forehead. His eyes were black like coal in a dark room. His lips were swollen and pinker than usual. “DO IT!” Rick screamed again, shoving at Daryl’s chest with the palms of his hands as if he was trying to goad the man into it. 

The hunter spun him again, a wrestling move he’d perfected from childhood fights with Merle, and the leader was pressed again to the wall, his head turned to the side, his chest pressed flush against the drywall and Daryl’s hips pinning his hips in place. “I can’t just rip into ya, Jesus fucking Christ,” Daryl growled. 

Rick became fierce and wild in his grip and he fought his way free, reaching the nightstand drawer and tugging at the handle before Daryl reacted. The hunter tugged his leader’s arm and pulled him back, the nightstand drawer being ripped from it’s base and crashing to the floor. Rick bent over and snatched up a bottle of lotion and shoved it into Daryl’s hands. 

Rick’s eyes were wide and desperate. The fear and the stress in them were replaced with urgency and desperation. He turned and climbed up on the bed, positioning himself on all fours for Daryl. “Please,” he mewled. “I need to feel.”

The hunter had seen Rick broken many times. Had brought him back from the brink more times than he could even remember. But this naked, crumbling man in front of him had never looked so lost and so needy. Daryl peeled off his shirt. It was damp from sweat and he dropped it on the floor. He had no idea how he was going to be able to stay steady and go slow because he felt like a predator with a clear shot at it’s prey. It was time to pounce, not crawl. 

He uncapped the bottle and got several fingers ready then slid them without hesitation up and down the crack of Rick’s ass. The leader flinched from the suddenness of it but his body leaned back towards Daryl’s, eager. 

“Relax,” Daryl instructed, his voice hard and commanding.

“Jesus, just fuck me, Daryl. Please.”

Daryl fought to get a finger inserted into the tight rim of Rick’s entrance as the leader whimpered a string of yes’s into the bed sheets. The hunter didn’t waste much time before adding a second finger. Rick was a blubbering mess below him already. Daryl pumped his fingers as Rick tried to move his body so that he was controlling it. Daryl curled his fingers and felt around Rick, making sure he was nice and prepped. His fingers slid over the bundle of nerves buried deep and Rick cried out, more needy ‘yes’s’ dripping off his tongue.

The hunter undid his pants and let them drop to the floor. He coated himself liberally with lotion and tossed the bottle back on the bed. He was long done with hesitation and as soon as he was slicked up he pressed the head of his burning, swollen cock to Rick’s entrance and pushed it in inch by inch. Rick moaned and whimpered below him. Daryl paused only once to let Rick adjust but the leader urged him on. By the time he was fully seated, Rick’s every breath was a soft cry. 

“Fuck me!” Rick shouted and Daryl hoped to hell that no one had come back to the house, or come back to the damn street for that matter, because the noises coming from Rick were loud as fuck and sinful as hell.

He pulled out and started thrusting, not too fast but not too timid. Rick backed into to him, spurring him on. “Faster,” he cried and finally Daryl let go of all his gentleness. He put his anger and his love both into his hard, fast movements, his body owning Rick’s body with every plunge deep inside him. 

The force of it, or maybe just the weakness of Rick’s limbs, finally made the leader drop to his chest on the bed. His ass still high in the air accepting each aggressive thrust of Daryl’s thick cock. Daryl had only moments left before he was going to burst. Rick was so fucking tight and warm and the sounds coming from him were too much to hold back from. Daryl finally thought to reach around and search for Rick’s length but the man already had himself in his own hand, stroking furiously as Daryl pumped into him. 

Daryl shifted his stance and he knew by the way Rick’s body responded that he found the right spot and he hammered into the leader’s prostate until he heard the unmistakable sounds of the man coming undone below him and he let himself explode, one final series of angry, forceful thrusts. He thrust through his orgasm and slowed to a stop as Rick shivered and whimpered below him. 

He heard his own gravely voice speak before he even knew what he was going to say. “Don’t you ever fucking leave me again.” The sound of his voice was near-unrecognizable. No one but Rick could provoke that much emotion from the hunter. His voice was a medley of feelings he was not often heard expressing. Relief, frustration, desire. 

Daryl slid himself out and watched Rick collapse on the bed, come dribbling down his thighs. The hunter pulled up his pants and zipped back up. He thought about storming out. Going back to the garage to work on his bike or taking a shift on guard at the wall. But the look of Rick pale and sweaty and boneless on the bed was too much to walk away from. He kicked lightly at Rick’s shins. “Move over,” he grumbled. And Rick climbed onto the bed and stretched out on his back, an arm thrown over his face, his chest still rising and falling deeply as he tried to get his breathing back under control. Daryl considered taking his pants back off, but simply didn’t have the energy. He laid down on his side facing Rick, just watching him as the leader tried to pull himself back together. 

Finally, Rick moved his arm from over his eyes and looked at Daryl. His pupils were back to their normal size and the blue in his eyes sparkled like sunshine off lakewater. He met Daryl’s gaze, unashamed. 

“I would not be able to survive it if something happened to you, Rick,” Daryl said, his voice now much softer than it had been earlier. “You gotta stop being so goddamn dumb all the time.”

Rick gave him an apologetic smile and scooted closer, putting his head on Daryl’s chest. The hunter stroked his damp curls. They were quiet for a moment but that didn’t mean they weren’t communicating. As always, they read each other- their body movements, the shift of eyes, the way they took a breath. “Are you _trying_ to think up some stupid shit to make me fuck you sane again?” 

“Yeah,” Rick admitted with a soft laugh. Daryl laughed too. But it wasn’t all a joke. Sure as shit Rick would do something stupid as fuck again. But Daryl would be there like he always was to scoop up the mess. Now, it would just be a lot more fun to clean up after.

**Author's Note:**

> If you are looking for more bottom!Rick, give [ Ricksbowlegs ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ricksbowlegs/pseuds/Ricksbowlegs)a shot! 
> 
> Hope everyone enjoyed!


End file.
